


Felidae

by ChromeHoplite, m_aruka



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Begging, Belly Bulging, Biting, Blow Jobs, Butt Plugs, Degradation, Dirty Talk, Edging, Jealousy, Lingerie, M/M, Ownership, Power Play, Purring, Rimming, Teasing, Tentacle Sex, Tongue Fucking, cum torture, cumming without touching, demon and lord, hunger, jerking off, kitten play, petting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 09:37:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17784974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChromeHoplite/pseuds/ChromeHoplite, https://archiveofourown.org/users/m_aruka/pseuds/m_aruka
Summary: I turned to you,Smelling out warmth like a cat,Preying on you decorouslyFor touch and comfort.- From "Trespass" by Connie BensleyThe kitten-play fic you never asked for, but got anyway. Happy Valentine's day!





	Felidae

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CimmerianShade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CimmerianShade/gifts).



> This is a collaboration with @m-illustr -- her art is simply some of the best on the whole of Tumblr & a constant source of inspiration for me. Check out her masterpieces here and give her some love: https://m-illustr.tumblr.com

If the young lord had to list all the things of which he was jealous, that list would span a mile long. Naturally, he envied anyone in better health, those with a height better fitting that of a young nobleman, and families whose legacies were not stained with murder and corruption. Such wants, he rationalized, were all understandable given his circumstances. 

And while he did not begrudge his chosen family, he could not help but feel like a green-eyed monster when he considered the Indian Prince and his reverent _khansama_ , Sieglinde and her doting guardian, even Lizzie and her indulgent lady in waiting. 

He really had no cause for this envy, not when one considered his own servant: a fierce and loyal hellspawn, every inch of him coveted by his caste, men and women alike. In the public eye, he excelled where it mattered. 

In private though, the earl craved his butler’s attention, watched as he went about his daily duties, wondering which lover the demon would seduce that evening, for he had many; but even more infuriating, were the feline he would lavish all his affections on in his quarters. 

He pushed from desk, rose from his chair, disturbing the air with his resentment and annoyance. Sebastian threw him a cursory, amused glance, a flash of blazing crimson over his shoulder as he prepared a tray laden with tea and biscuits. His lips curled upwards at the corners predatorily, reminding the young master of a cat who’d caught sight of a mouse and intended to have its fun with it. 

“My lord, is everything alright?”

The demon damn well knew it was _not_. Could smell his master’s avarice and greed rolling off him like high tide coming in on the Severn Estuary. Stiffly, wordlessly, the earl strode from the study. A mixture of rain and ice pelted hard against the large windows down the hall, but the heavy drapery muffled the sound somewhat, kept the outside world hidden. He winced with every crash of thunder and estimated the slamming of his chamber door to synchronize with the next one. 

Roughly, he loosened the bow about his neck and unfastened the first few buttons of his shirt. It was too humid in his room, too stifling. He was smothered by need, not only in the carnal sense since he could take care of those well enough alone, but to be revered and cherished and praised. But how to go about such a thing without asking directly for it? To do so without the damned demon smirking knowingly at him? 

He knew how, and it was a sign of his desperation that he was even mulling over such a thing. To think, he, the Lord of Phantomhive, costumed as a cat! 

It had been Lizzie’s idea of course; how positively _adorable_ for them to attend the popular October event with matching feline accessories. He’d dreaded the soirée for weeks, until a fortuitous assignment had lured him from London and he’d been unable to attend with his betrothed. 

The paraphernalia were still in the velvet box in which they’d been presented to him. White tufty ears that clipped onto his hair, long, opal, silk opera gloves, a royal blue collar, complete with tag engraved with his false name and a luxurious tail attached to an underbust bodice. The latter seemed so false, it was fastened too high, and so he unclipped it. He found the solid attachment to resemble the shape of one of those newly created bulbs; it was sleek, but rounded, tapered and much smaller. 

“Ridiculous,” he uttered under his breath, as he considered it perversely. He removed his short pants over his long socks and heeled shoes, shucked out of his jacket, letting both fall unceremoniously to the floor and replaced the ribbon around his neck for that of the collar. With some difficulty, he fastened the bodice under his open shirt. Heaving a sigh, he secured the clips in his slated hair and finally rolled his sleeves up until they would go no more, removed his rings and wore the gloves in their stead. 

Not one to shy away from discomfort, he strengthened his resolve, retrieved the almond oil at his bedside table and slathered the bulbous base attached to the tail. One leg up on his bed, he slowly, carefully inserted it, teeth biting down on tongue, frowning until nothing but the tail showed. Unwilling to give away all his secrets at once, he unceremoniously dug through his undergarments and retrieved the sheer, frilly bloomers and hitched them up where they sat low on his hip bones. He took a minute to compose himself, removed the tail from its confines and relished the softness that fondled his bare calves where the tail danged.

He glanced at himself in the mirror, and he flushed scarlet. It… it wasn’t _bad_ , at least not as terrible as he expected. He could appreciate how the corset accentuated his petite form, peeking his rosy nipples and making him look more lithe than usual, how the collar emphasized his slender, graceful neck… With his pupils dilated both from arousal and bashfulness, he could concede how some could find beauty in the small, furry creatures. 

From down the hall the clock struck nine, signalling his habitual retreat from the study and into his room. He gasped and no sooner, he heard three firm knocks at his door. 

“Young master, I have your tea and it will go cold if you do not have it soon. Shall I bring it in?” 

The boy turned and faced the door, fingering his tail between gloved fingers with what he thought was a coquettish expression. “Yes,” he replied, in a quiet, playful lilt, the authority melting from his dulcet voice. 

As was his manner, Sebastian sauntered into the room, and lay the tray by the fireplace where he and the earl had set up a game of chess that was three weeks running now, both of them at a disadvantage with the majority of their pieces gone, save for their rooks and queens. He straightened, prepared to ask if they would continue their game tonight, when it became very apparent that his master had a very different diversion in mind. 

“Perhaps I should have brought you milk instead, my lord…”

The earl bit back his retort of _shut up_ , and merely bowed his head coyly, looking up at the demon from beneath his long, thick lashes. His plump lips pouted and he made his way to his large four-poster. Whether it was practice, or it was the embodiment of his feline persona, he doubted he’d ever looked so agile climbing onto the bed opposite of where his butler stood. He crawled seductively, svelte limbs moving elegantly towards the edge then sat on his heeled shoes and waited patiently. 

Sebastian’s eyes roamed over the nervy little thing, their colour shifting from sanguine to vermilion to darkest black, intensifying in their depth the longer he stared. Masterfully, he drew in breath after breath without the boy being any the wiser, tasting the atmosphere, engrossed in the loud thump and squelch of the blood racing through the earl’s veins. “Should I leave you?” he teased.

Reflexively, the boy took his bottom lip between his teeth, shook his head and the tag about his collar shook with the earl’s displeasure.

“Ahh, I see…” Sebastian crooned tilting his head, crossing his arms over his chest, tongue sliding over his incisors as he appraised his contractor. He felt every inch a rabid dog: aggressive, feral, paralyzed by the mere sight of the tiny mammal unconsciously kneading the sheet on which he sat. Should he pounce upon the little thing, he would surely give chase, and he wasn't sure how much restraint he had in his reserves to not devour him whole. 

When enough silence had fallen between them, the demon moved towards the bed slowly, feet led and cumbersome, hand outstretched as if to not frighten the human. The boy had seen him in all his monstrous glory more times than he had fingers, but he doubted he'd ever seen him quite so hungry, so desirous. With his teeth, he pulled off his own glove, spat it to the floor and let his contracted hand fall between the cat's ears. 

_Soft. So soft._

He pet the thin strands gently and the earl's eyes shut immediately. His breathing slowed, a contradiction to the demon's whose false heart beat swiftly, thrumming like hummingbird wings in his human guise. His fingers swept through the hair, baby fine like gossamer spider's threads, not exactly fur, but just as sleek. 

The noble hummed, a sound too vulgar to be perceived as comforting and when Sebastian drew his hand away, the young man bumped his head up into it. Despite his initial aversion to the role, the hesitant touch was worth it, as was knowing he'd unsettled his butler. The evidence was in the almost inaudible growl he caught from the demon's belly. He looked up once more, blue eyes burning, pleading for more of his attention and pawed at Sebastian's torso.

“You are playing with fire, my lord,” he warned, fingers carding through his master's hair and trailing just behind his ear where he scratched affectionately. 

The young man chased the sensation, leaning his head against the demon's hand and baring his neck in the process. “Nnnnngh,” he whined, turned on by Sebastian's caution and his blissful ministrations. In his bloomers, his cock stirred, twitching eagerly, trying to break his composure.

Upon seeing the pale expanse of his master's neck, Sebastian seized it between his lips, mouthing his way from base to artery and grazing the tender skin there. He sucked it between his teeth, marking the boy once again as his own and ignored the tremors he felt rocking the small aroused body.

He nuzzled his ear, drawing the intoxicating, familiar scent of his earthly possession. He smelled of the most delicious feast: a tempest of flesh and blood and soul, mouthwatering and aged to perfection. What he wouldn’t give for a taste… 

“Does that feel good?” he breathed hot against the shell of the earl's ear as his questing fingers divested his master of his shirt. 

The beautiful aristocrat nodded, made a sound at the back of his throat that was unmistakably feline. It set the butler on edge and the howling wind outside, slamming the shutters against the manor were merely a microcosm of the maelstrom he felt within. 

In times like these, Sebastian took liberties; it helped that he knew his master’s desires, that he could detect his lust from anywhere on the manor grounds. It called to him, beckoned his devilish whims, begged for satiation even though his exterior was one of utmost stoicism. Proud little thing. Tonight was no exception. The lord-turned-vixen was craving his affections because he’d always been so miserly with them. It would do no good to spoil the boy; had he done so, his master would not have lowered himself to the point of donning a feline costume for a servant. 

As if he were in his own quarters, the devil discarded his tailcoat and settled himself arrogantly at the center of the large bed. He threw one arm behind his head and pat his firm stomach with the other as he would the felines he brought there. 

The earl eyed him suspiciously, turning his head to take in the butler’s lackadaisical appearance. The demon was imperious to the nth degree, flashing him a smirk that evolved into a grin, exposing a set of pointed inhuman teeth to complete his feral look. 

“Come,” he ordered, voice like rustling silk. 

The young man knew he should ignore the invitation. A true cat would likely hop from the bed and leave the room altogether, but he was too close to getting what he yearned for, so he obeyed, more like a dog than anything else. He inched towards Sebastian, and when he stopped just short of his lap, he was sat upon it. The devil pinched the buttons of his own shirt off, one by one by one, letting the delicate cotton of his uniform fall at either sides of him until his bare chest was on full display, rising and falling with the breaths he dragged through his nose. 

“Lay down.” Sebastian’s voice was predatory. This had ceased to be an invitation; it was a demand. 

And so, straddling the butler’s thighs, the earl sunk forward, silk gloves slowly mapping out the taut torso under him, until his heated skin was flush against the demon’s. He held his breath, and Sebastian’s large hand pulled his head down where the demon’s heart should be. Despite its absence, there was a resonating sound. It was the furthest thing from soothing; rather than a hush of blood, a gentle thrumming beat, Sebastian’s heart sounded like a jagged rock being crammed into a chasm much too small, like flesh and muscle being torn right from the bone, like the abyss swallowing decaying light in long, suffocating inhalations.

The aristocrat’s breath caught, and the sound only intensified; his agitated state no doubt pleased his servant. 

“Now, was it so difficult to be obedient, my lord? I’m sure if you did it more often, you might even find it… amusing,” the devil taunted, petting his felinesque master, threading his fingers through the boy’s hair at the nape of his neck. The human gave a shudder and it caused the demon’s appetite to spike. Marauding digits slipped from nape to spine, dancing a waltz, their measure distinct in spiral patterns, leaving gooseflesh in their wake. 

“Mmn,” the earl hummed unconsciously closing his eyes, drowning out the sound that was his butler’s hunger. He focused on each millimeter touched and caressed, chewing the inside of his cheek, trying not to squirm where he lay when the fingers breached the corset and slid under. It was a tight fit, one that constricted his ribs and had him sucking his stomach in. 

“So touch starved, little minx,” the devil crooned, speaking into his master’s fine hair and withdrawing his hand from within the garment. His heels planted into the soft mattress and he rolled his hips up into the boy, his hardened, clad cock trapped between them in an agonizing denial of friction. A muffled puff of air warmed the flesh at his chest and instead of drawing the earl up by the hips, he simply dug his blunt nails in the minimal swath of flesh between the corset and sheer undergarments worn by his master from where the fluffy, fox-haired tail protruded. The boy’s pert backside came up immediately like a cat’s, following the progression of his fondling. “You like this?” 

“Hnnng…” the noble mewled, nodding, arching his back and presenting his arse to the devil’s hand every time it neared. His arousal stirred and should he get up now, there would be no hiding it, but given his sheer undergarments, he was sure some of his lust had seeped onto the butler’s trousers, staining them with his scent. 

All of which pleased Sebastian, and his amusement made itself known in the firm grasping of the lecherous boy’s tail at its base. His master gave a plaintive, pathetic cry. “Kittens do not whine like little Victorian sluts, my lord; they purr.” 

The boy’s chin jutted defiantly in the devil’s direction. “Ahh… sh-shut up, Sebastian,” he ordered in a shaky tone, an attractive blush thawing his once cold, composed features and adding colour to his desire. He glared at his butler, his cerulean eye glossy with want, while his other remained hidden under his patch. 

_A shame._

Sebastian’s fingers curled around the soft fur of the tail. He twisted his wrist leisurely to the right, then the left, felt his master tense, saw his eye widen and when the devil added pressure to the base, the boy’s mouth fell open in a silent, begrudging moan. Slowly, he drew the tail back, felt the boy’s body resist, try to keep himself full of the plug-- the greedy thing… It gave, little by little, inching its way out, the human’s nails biting into the devil’s skin with the effort it took to hold onto it. “Allow me rephrase, my lord. Do you enjoy this? Do you want more? Let me hear you purr...” 

And before the boy could answer, Sebastian forced the solid makeshift toy back hard into his contractor. It won him a scream, a broken sob and a failed attempt at a purr. And the devil could not be bothered to care that they weren't precisely what he wanted when the boy was so obviously past the point of humiliation, trying his best to emit a tonal fluttering sound. His master’s willing subjugation fed his ego. 

Another whimper. Another cry. A gasp. A grieving wail.

Sebastian pushed and pulled the little toy into the delicate, breakable body. In and out, faster and harder until his master was panting. The boy writhed on his lap, cock wet and gummy in his undergarment as it rubbed against Sebastian's clothed one. 

The devil's hunger grew, turned hot and seering in his belly and suddenly simply touching the boy wasn't enough. He needed to taste and marr and humiliate him even further. 

And so he stilled his movements, found the string of the boy's eye patch and gave it a gentle tug. It slid from his master's face, leveled with his chest and though he looked positively enraged at having been denied more pleasure, there was something endearing about his blown pupils, his twitching fingers and his trembling lips. 

“What the hell are you playing at, Sebastian? I didn’t order you to stop!” his master lamented between hissed breaths. 

_Adorable_. His master might as well have been swatting at him with his tiny claws presented for all the balled-up anger he displayed. He teased the boy, dangled the string of his eye patch in front of his face, dragged it along his chest, zig-zagging it over his flawless facade. “You take the pains of dressing as a cat, and yet you can’t be bothered to play the role of one. You disappoint me, young master.” He let the words sink in and expected the youth to look somewhat ashamed, a little contrite; the insult would surely appeal to his sense of perfectionism. “You won’t play with this?” he mocked further, running the string over the gloved fingertips. 

The boy grasped the string and sat up on the demon’s lap, cat ears askew. He tore the button restricting Sebastian’s throbbing length inside his trousers and unpacked it, wet, glistening and already standing at attention. With his gloves on, he pumped it twice, unable to help himself, especially with how the rigid flesh slid slick against the silk of his gloves. He was almost sad to release him, but excited nonetheless to allow his own cock freedom. He pushed them together, both slippery, hot against one another, throbbing and leaking. He secured the string just below the sensitive head of his own, tying them together with a bow and spit upon them, letting the saliva spill from his lips in long, stringy segments. 

“Mmn… I want to amuse myself with this instead,” the young man insisted, spreading the glistening lubricant up and down their shafts, unable to fit both in his small hand. He licked his free hand, back to front, soaking the glove and brought it to their straining arousals. He swallowed hard, hips stuttering and jutting forward. 

“Well… well played, young master,” Sebastian praised with a groan and a growl. Audacious, petulant thing. Stubbornly independent like a cat. Unwilling to bend to anyone’s will. His pelvis rocked up, craving a deeper, hotter penetration than that of a partially covered fist. 

An obsidian coil, manifested from the demon, broke from his grasp on the earl’s hip and swiped along his weeping slit. Saturating itself, it was quick to shove into the boy’s mouth and smear upon his tongue. “Taste how eager you are to be mine,” he commanded. “You can deceive yourself with your words, but your pretty little prick never lies to me, my lord.”

“Mmph…” 

Sebastian retracted his essence from the boy’s mouth, not having anticipated that he would have responded so enthusiastically. Did not expect him to suck the salty-sweet pre-ejacualate, to pump them faster, nor for his smaller cock to harden as a result of tasting himself, his want, his need. If the butler had to deny himself what he really craved until the end of their convoluted contract, he would not curb his carnal appetite further this evening. 

The string around their cocks fell by some _mysterious_ means, and he flipped the boy over without the use of his butler’s hands. As would any of his feline counterparts, the little lord, fussed, squirmed to get himself free, but Sebastian merely held him there, a dangerously clawed hand at the small of his back, and drew him back so that the boy’s backside was presented to his face. 

“Shhh… be a good boy,” the butler instructed in his deceptively dulcet tone, as he pet the boy’s arse gently then gave it a firm smack when he did not listen. 

“How dare…” the earl protested, pushing the devil’s cock from his face with the back of his hand as he looked over his shoulder. “Is this how you treat your cats, Sebastian?” He regretted asking the question the moment the words left his mouth. 

Sebastian feigned deafness, lifted the length of the tufty tail, lowered the boy’s undergarments until they sat just below his bottom and tongued coyly around the base still implanted in the youth. He slavered noisily upon it, watched the viscous liquid drool down the earl’s backside onto his sac and drip onto his bare chest. The skin around the hole, now raw from his abuse, oversensitive and red, responded by further constricting. Sebastian pulled the plug out and drew his master’s hips back to his face, bit the plush flesh of his ass and left marks, indents of monstrous teeth. They barely broke the skin, but would bruise blue and black, just the way he liked it. 

Evidence. 

He would not dare show himself immodest to his betrothed for at least a week. Two or three if his master permitted to be claimed properly by his demon. 

“You… hah… brute! You absolute… I hate… ” the boy winced, squeezing his eyes shut and smacking Sebastian’s leg. 

“No, you don’t.” The butler smiled, licked his pert backside, fat, wet inhuman muscle laving the skin. Drank in the sounds his master made, indignant, shameful grousing, huffing and burying his face into his pubic area, breathing hot on his cock, unable to make himself adequately useful. “I know you believe yourself to be important in the eyes of the Queen and your earldom, but here, now, you’re nothing to me but a boycunt who likes to be tongue fucked.”

“You depraved bastard! Who would do such a… Only a devil… Don’t expect me to kiss… Just stick it in, you know I won’t beg! ” 

“You will, my lord,” he teased, stoked and soothed his master’s hole, then impaled him with his tongue in one swift whack. He drove it voraciously into his warm, still snug opening, burying himself, plundering him insatiably. He flicked the inner walls, expanded himself and filled him, moved the youth up and down on his face, wiggling him nice and deep. The boy jerked against his mouth, clenching and tightening. 

The earl clung to his servant’s knees, his fingers digging into the skin, as the demon drove in and out, faster and faster making the most obscene noises: lips smacking, sucking, snarling, grunting, growling hungrily. A veritable beast. But given that the human form he’d selected for himself, the vast arrogance and ego trapped within could barely be contained; he was beyond patience, way past resistance. His tendrils broke free, flared seething and guiding his master’s head by tangling in his hair, to where he wanted it, even stretched the boy’s lips apart and pushed him forcibly down onto his neglected cock. 

He rubbed his length against the roof of his master’s ridged palate. Drove into the damp heat, slammed up and up, snapping and retreating, choking him unapologetically as he ate him, made his voice crack and break mid-moan, mid-name, “Sebas… Sebas… ti… an…”. 

His master gasped and sputtered and gagged but never ordered him to stop -- as if he could verbally -- but they were hardly new at this; the young man knew other ways to halt the butler. And yet, he would never show his fear, it was the only sure way to end their game, to send his demon into a feeding frenzy that could not be stopped but with his demise. 

Sebastian felt it, dread and panic teetering on the precipice of his master’s heart. It provoked him, made him bloodthirst, egged his fury and self-imposed starvation, exposed it like a gaping wound at the center of his chest that sucked the surrounding emptiness into his body, a bottomless, selfish void. 

It was pain and ecstasy, and something he craved for the boy to feel, cut off from everything but for his demon and so he flung him off. Brutally holding him aloft with the extensions of his true form like a ragdoll pinned to the underside of the fabric suspended on his four-poster. His shoes slipped from his long silken socks and fell onto the bed with a whisper of blankets. He manipulated him, cradled the delicate body with his tendrils so they looked at one another. 

“More?” he growled ferally, voice holding none of the casualness it usually did; honorifics be damned.

The earl nodded, smiling though weak and sweating, lips swollen and bruised. “More…”

Sebastian followed the pitiful request as if it were an urgent order. A tenebrosity darker than shadow, darker than night draped over the young man like a heavy, imposing fog befalling London. It blinded him, deafened him, stole his sense of smell so that all he could do was _feel_. 

“Sebas…”

And his mouth was filled with a tangible eclipse that felt like ice so cold it numbed itself pleasantly against his tongue. He moaned covetously, lithe body like a pendulum, rocked back and forth slowly, gently, reverently. 

“Do you need to be told what to do, my little lord?” 

The suspended earl gave the tendril a gentle suck, drew it deeper into his mouth and held it in place with his teeth. The beast shuddered and the boy felt its vibrations against the back of his throat. Delicate coils tangled themselves in the boy’s matted hair, tugged at the roots. Blinded eyes flashed open uselessly and a cry died on the youth’s tongue where the phallic tendril pumped in and out of his mouth. A long baited breath stirred the hair at his temple, warm and arousing, and a slight inky texture of obscurity grazed against his cheek. 

Thin, profane, smokey twines wrenched the bloomers off the boy’s thighs and discarded them, forced his legs apart, spread him and squeezed into his opening, one after the other, stuffing him, swelling inside and expanding. He quivered and his length throbbed. The demon’s strong extensions wound themselves at his wrists and ankles, his midsection, his hips and throat, rubbed the latter’s bulge where his shadow made its progress. They pulled at his limbs as if the earl were guilty of treason, hanged and quartered. They drilled him, propelled him forward and back, slammed into him, heaved and shoved and crammed until his guts were full, until they bulged and were visible through his porcelain flesh. His thighs flexed, his fists closed and opened. 

It was possession and domination for both demon and lord. A suffusion of deep, yearning desire to be owned, to feed and be fed alive, to hurt and be feel agony, to catch fire and be the soul that ignited it. They were flesh and bone and all that wasn’t of this world. 

Lightning crashed outside amidst sobs and tears of painful rapture trickling down the young man’s cheeks in streaming, gushing rivulets. Desire ground his senses raw, every stimulus dancing on the edge of pleasure and pain. He arched his back, whimpering, mewling, and the demon below him, looked up at the boy ravenously, ego fed and surging. He lay there, arrogantly admiring his work, let his tendrils lazily stroke his length, soak up the boy’s pearlescent excitation dripping from his weeping cock and feed it back to him. His own tongue emerged from his monstrous mouth, large and heavy, licked its way along the delicate line of his master’s collarbone where sweat saturated the skin in salted satisfaction. His master’s desire blossomed like a moonflower the closer he came to his peak, unfurling and showing its beauty in the darkness, a starlit luminescence shining at his core through muscle and sinew and fat for all of Sebastian’s many eyes to feast on. 

A renewed moan welled up and a tendril circled itself around the boy’s throat to silence him. Another gripped his painful erection and massaged it. Drew the foreskin back and forth, faster, grip twisting and squeezing. 

Madness. Delirium. Death was coming for the small master as surely as his orgasm. And were he permitted to speak, he would beg for both. Tension stretched the boy like a bow string until he could hold back no longer. His release burst from him with all the violence of a desperate and starved demon. 

His body pulsed and jerked and from below, a sharp intake of breath and bucking, confident hips. The demon felt it as if it were his own, the throes of his contractor’s passion, his squirming, his trembling, screaming flesh. His dark essence branded the insides of his master, and he lowered him and turned him over so they were laying back to chest. He bathed him in his unholy release, stained and spoiled him so that none other would dare touch him again, then bit hard into his neck with a crunch, bleeding his over-sensitive body for the amusement of it. 

The noble surrendered, limp form too weak to protest and gave himself over to the devil. “D-done… done Sebastian,” he mumbled. 

“You’re not,” the butler crooned in the boy’s ear with a torturous hold of the his spent prick with his contracted hand. 

“Ahh.. hurts… hurts…” the earl jolted feebly, complaining in a rasp, his throat raw and burning. 

“Very well, then,” the demon consoled, simply wrapping his arms around the boy like a cage. 

The young lord, relaxed if only for a moment when Sebastian hummed in his ear, “You can do one more, can’t you my lord?” 

“N-no… I-- I…”

“Hushhh...” Sebastian lulled, carrying on with his dark melody, smiling against the shell of his master’s ear. The rhythm was slow and decadent, like bodies moving wantonly against one another. 

The boy squirmed and panted as the vibrations flowed through him, seeking his most intimate spots. It took no time at all. Oscillated tremors fondled and edged his tightly coiled nerves of his prostate. His toes curled, his cock hardened once more, untouched, stimulated but by the tenor of his servant’s devilish hymn. He whined and groaned, ached from this ominously lewd torture. Needed and wanted in equal measure. “Please Sebastian… I order… I order...” he cried. 

The devil laughed. “You can come when you purr for me.” The melodic frequencies increased and the boy writhed and tossed his head. 

The earl tried. And he tried and tried, unable to find his voice over the din of the pulsing waves assaulting him from the inside. 

“Softer, my lord, more sultry… here, allow me,” the demon offered, thumbing the young man’s Adam’s apple with deceptive kindness. He moved his hips against his backside the closer the the boy got to his approximation of the sound, aroused by his persistence, his willingness to spend. His cock slipped between his master’s thighs, pushed together in his wriggling. Squelched as he fucked into their soft, pillowy flesh, squeezing the boy tighter to his chest. Holding him. Keeping him. The rumbling at the earl’s chest was cresting, cresting… 

“Nnnnhhhgg…” the youth’s body clenched and his pleasure spiked. He tried to escape, to sit up but could not. He thrashed and struggled, twitched convulsively and his mewling cries metamorphosed into a shriek of ecstatic torment. Finally he stilled, splattered with his seed and the devil’s as it ran down his legs, hips and corset, sopping onto the soiled bed sheets. 

“I need a bath,” the little master breathed, chest heaving, heart thumping the mad beat of a demented drummer. 

“You make a most awful cat, my lord, but you are still an amusing pet, nonetheless.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and Feedback are always welcomed!
> 
> A huge thank you to @nerdythangs, @gocaitycat and he-who-shall-not-be-named for all your help with this fic.


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